World War Machine
by RainbowLemon7
Summary: World War Machine is a fictional story set in the midst of World War 2 inspired by the Mechwarrior/Battletech universe(s). The Allies discover that their enemies, the Axis forces, have a secret weapon that threatens to turn the tide of the war. Aries squad, a motley group of commandos, is assigned to find out what this new weapon is and it's weakness before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

WORLD WAR MACHINE

 **Chapter 1: Battle in the Trenches**

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 **Let me know what you think about my Novella, "World War Machine".**

 **Any input is appreciated.**

 **I hope you all enjoy! :-)**

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Our story begins in a place that many soldiers would call nothing less than a living Hades; the Eastern Front. A bloody battlefield.

Little did the soldiers fighting these gruesome battles know that their actions would have consequences that would reverberate and last for generations to come; each battle leaving a mark on more than a nation's geography, but upon the history of the entire world.

The following battle that you will see was no different, for in this battle many Allied troops lost their lives and were captured while defending their forward command center after a surprise attack by Axis forces.

One squad, however, called "Aries squad", refused to yield in the midst of a strong enemy push and turned the tide of the battle in an instant under intense enemy bombardment.

"That's it men! ATTACK!" The squad's Captain yelled, "Tank divisions one and five give us cover while we advance!"

"Copy that." The tank commanders replied through the radios.

They began a bombardment upon the enemy infantry taking shelter in the trenches opposite of the position the Allied infantry were advancing towards.

The atmosphere was heavy, the sky darkened with smoke and ash.

The battle had only been fought for about twenty minutes, but every soldier felt exhausted and parched as if they had been fighting for hours.

Aries squad along with two other companies continued to advance under heavy fire, each soldier keen on reaching the forward trenches they had previously lost as quickly as possible.

Just then two tank shells exploded just ahead of them.

"Captain, enemy tank division advancing fast on the right." the Lieutenant said; his form wavering as he ran as a result of the blasts that had partially blinded him.

"I see them Bart." The Captain replied, "Keep moving! We need to reach the forward trenches before they can recapture them!"

Enemy tanks were taking aim at the advancing infantry, and multiple soldiers were taken out with each round launched into the midst of them.

They kept running however, there was no stopping now. They were nearly to the trenches, and they could see where the enemy was entrenched.

They, along with what was left of the other two companies, finally made it, and they opened fire on the enemy, now not fifteen yards in front of them.

Each side exchanged volleys that created casualties every time they were fired.

"Well this be a' fine mess we're a' in now." Their gruff Specialist grumbled loudly, as an artillery shell exploded a few yards in front of him.

"Hold your ground men!" The Captain shouted, "Air support is on the way!"

"Grenade out!" Their Sergeant yelled.

It was as difficult to see as it was to reload in the midst of combat, the only reason they kept firing was because it was mechanical for them; especially for Aries squad.

They all could remember the first time they opened fire on the enemy, their first battle, and how much they hated their guns for their refusal to load or fire.

But that was months ago. They were experienced now, and chose to ignore the stubbornness of their weapons and savor every new shell fired upon the enemy.

They no longer thought about reloading or firing, it was an instinctive part of them as much as their arms or legs.

Every minute spent like this felt like an hour, each soldier covered in dirt, sweat and blood.

Many soldiers ground their teeth with every shot they fired, feeling like their gun's accuracy was derived solely from their anger towards their targets.

Others often drifted into a space one could only call an abyss of consciousness. Within there were no worries or fears, only thoughts and solitude. There was no war, there were no guns to fire, there was no danger.

One might think that these men were ignorant of their surroundings or absent minded even; but you'd be wrong. Each of these soldiers saw everything as it happened because they didn't see solely with their eyes, but with their minds.

When a man finds himself aware of both the inward and the outward at the same time, a sensation occurs within and upon a man that likens to an omniscient state of being. But unlike God, this state of being is temporary, and lasts but a moment.

This consciousness was broken by the sound and sight of their air support raining death upon their enemies ahead of them.

There was no time to celebrate, they quickly exited the trenches and ran towards their stunned and incapacitated enemies.

A few of the soldiers were shot at they climbed out by the few Axis defenders left alive in the trenches after the air strike.

They quickly overtook their enemies with ease and finished off anyone who was still firmly among the living.

Now occupying enemy fortifications, they continued to fire at distant regrouping enemy infantry.

Axis tank lines were being pushed back by Allied tank support, and air support was hassling enemy supply lines that were in route to resupply their forces…They had them on the run.

"Ha ha! That's right, run you cowards!" Their Specialist shouted victoriously.

"They aren't retreating, not yet." The Captain replied firmly, "They are most likely regrouping for a counter strike if their support managed to get past our air support."

"Awe, come on Capt'n, why do you have to take the fun out of everything?" The Specialist said almost sadly.

"What's our next move Captain?" The Lieutenant asked.

"We wait for command to relay orders", the captain said firmly, "we don't advance until we have the support and manpower to do so."

"Air support is only going to last for so long though, sir.

"I am fully aware, Bart, but we can't risk our ground forces like that."

"Yes sir."

The men had come to respect their Captain's judgement even if they disagreed.

Their bloodthirsty Sergeant still grumbled about it however.

"Darn all a' this, I want to blow 'em up now!"


	2. Chapter 2

WORLD WAR MACHINE

 **Chapter 2: A New Mission**

Victory came swiftly after their successful push. Their air support had fully cut off any support the opposing Axis forces needed to retaliate and were in full retreat.

They had successfully defended their forward post, but at a high cost. Nearly one hundred soldiers were killed during the attack, and an entire tank division was lost.

"Captain Achilles…" The Commander radioed.

"Yes Sir." The Captain responded.

"Haul it back here, your squad has new orders."

"Yes sir, we're on our way."

"New orders already Captain?" Asked the Lieutenant.

"That's right Lieutenant." The Captain replied.

"I don't like it, we've never been given new orders this soon after a battle." Their cynical Sergeant commented.

"Ah, stop 'ur yapping ya' yella' belly, this means we get to kill more Nazi's!" Their Specialist replied enthusiastically.

"I'm no coward," the Sergeant replied unabashed, "I take no pleasure in death, only in the lives we save in this bloody war."

"Whatever ya' say mate! I'll make sure to leave some for you when them' nazi's show their ugly faces."

They boarded the two jeeps waiting for them, and they headed off towards their recovered headquarters where their Commander was waiting.

Oddly, they didn't converse with each other while they were being transported. There was an air of mystery and curiosity that provided communication between them all without saying a word. Each was absorbed with his thoughts about the battle they had just been in, and the next mission they were to be assigned shortly.

They arrived and unloaded outside of their base.

The Captain lead the way for the rest of his men as they made their way towards the Commander's room of operations.

They were admitted inside and lined up at attention, standing from the highest to lowest rank.

Their leader, Captain Roger Achilles, was an ace in the military academy he graduated from, displaying both physical and academic prowess that won him respect and admiration from everyone he met.

He had only been Captain of his squad for a few months and they had already created a good reputation for themselves with him in command.

He lead his troops brilliantly and fearlessly, determined to make it home with every member of their team accounted for.

The Captain's metaphorical and virtually literal right hand was Lieutenant Bart Atlas.

Bart had proved himself a loyal soldier and friend to the Captain. He followed orders well and was usually focused in combat, which the Captain appreciated.

When out of combat however, he was generally relaxed and jocular.

Their ever-cynical Sergeant Ben Alric, was one of the two newest members of Aries Squad.

He was a good soldier and followed orders well.

Despite these qualities, he was always distrustful of everyone around him due to an early childhood experience that caused him to never fully open up to anyone.

Specialist Reynold Beowulf was the sole exception to Alric's shunning as they surprisingly become friends not long after he was assigned to the squad.

Beowulf or "Wolf" as he was nicknamed, was a man who needed no introduction. Being the explosives and heavy weapons expert on Aries squad, he was not only good at what he did, but enjoyed every moment of it.

He had nearly blown up the entire squad on multiple occasions and was nearly relieved from duty after "accidentally" arming C4 inside the squad's quarters.

The youngest and newest addition to Aries squad was Private James Gervais.

Fresh out of the academy, like the Captain before him, he was an exemplary soldier in the classroom and on the field.

Unlike the Captain however, he was the only Private to ever pass an unbeaten Commando grade test.

Despite his accomplishments however, he was still young, being but age 20, and was assigned to Aries squad to help him overcome his fear of real combat.

His superiors also thought being surrounded by experienced soldiers would compensate for his inexperience.

His squad mates were generally content with having James on their squad, though his immature bravado, mingled with fear, often annoyed them.

Commander Ivan Hale, their commanding officer, stood before them looking at each of them with his kind, all-seeing eyes.

"At ease soldiers." The Commander said rather sternly.

"Before we get down to business, I want to congratulate and commend you for your actions today. We owe the defense of our base to you boys."

"Thank you, sir." The Captain replied.

"I wish I could allow more time to celebrate, but the assignment I have for you must be executed asap. So…" He paused and looked at them with an expression that discomfited some of them. "We've received news that our northern forces were also attacked by Axis forces not long before we were hit…and were almost completely wiped out."

"Wiped out!?" The Captain asked shockingly. The rest of the squad was equally, if not more surprised at this revelation.

"That is correct Captain Achilles, however, our scouts have confirmed that there were survivors who were taken captive. They are being held in a detention camp not far from the enemy's front lines, north west of the battle's location." He paused and looked at each of them with significant looks. "We have heard rumors that some kind of super weapon was used on our forces. We need to find out what happened up there, and those captured soldiers are all we have left to give a clue as to what our enemy used to defeat half an army in twenty minutes."

The full weight of what he said was felt among them all, each realizing what they were going to do.

"You will get behind their lines and infiltrate their detention camp. Your objective is to rescue as many survivors as possible. You will be briefed on the mission and deploy at O Three Hundred. Any questions?"

Each of them wanted to say something, anything, but they remained silent in the face of their impending task.

"In that case, you are all dismissed, and may God be with you all."


	3. Chapter 3

WORLD WAR MACHINE

 **Chapter 3: Love and War  
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Aries Squad would achieve minimal sleep that night. Each of them haunted by a feeling of dread that forced their minds to rest on nothing else. The idea of going behind enemy lines and rescuing survivors from a battle shrouded by mystery was an ever-present cause of worry for them.

Save for Private Gervais, all of them weren't afraid of combat; it was an ever-present part of their daily lives that composed a narrow psychological frame of mind. It minimized their fears and magnified their inner barbaric nature giving them a false sense of security. The idea of a superweapon being used against them, however, impressed the reality of death fresh in their minds that they could not deny with mere experience.

The rising suspense finally reached its climax and was broken by Sergeant Alric who said in a dryly sarcastic tone, "So this is how it ends…Sent on a suicide mission behind enemy lines."

"We're not going to die, Alric." The Captain objected, "We will rescue our comrades, defeat the Axis and their supposed superweapon."

"With all due respect, sir, we have no idea what we are up against. They managed to destroy our Northern forces in a matter of minutes. What chance do we stand?"

"I don't believe in purposeless life and death, Sergeant. We have successfully performed nineteen assignments and we have never lost a man on the job. This mission will be no different."

"Ya' all speak for ya' selves boys," Specialist Beowulf interjected, "I'm lookin' forward to blowin' up some Commi's!"

A few of them smiled slightly at that comment; they all would have given anything to _really_ feel that way, but it was futile to deny the apprehensions they felt.

Aware of the impending strain that they knew would be upon their bodies and minds, they each took their turn to fall asleep until they were all immersed in their dreams.

What does a soldier dream about before combat? What emotions influence what he sees within the creations of his subconscious and cerebellum? Is it overly precocious to assume that each of them saw the same things? Or rather, that the essence of what they saw and felt merely took different shapes and forms based upon that individual's memories or character?

The idea that thoughts translate into something tangible has become the driving force of innovation and creativity, producing a naïve ambition for accomplishments. It fills the hearts and minds of everyone who has ever been introduced to the concept. This blissful idea that has driven men to achieve greatness has only been challenged by a single foe; a foe that has brought down even the mightiest of giants and ideologies.  
Youth believe themselves invincible, yet one has only to face death and realize that while they may feel one way, the world around them is composed of objective laws and orders that stifle invincibility; plunging young souls into inner chaos.

Without confidence, you have no ambition, no ferocity, and no reasons. Why should you fight when the moment you die you are lost into a sea of emptiness and lackluster existence? Why show ambition or strength when your life will end and your accomplishments pale in the face of the unknown?

It would be foolishness to say that mortal flesh can trump death with the justifications that by cheating death or being "lucky", you can be preserved eternally. Biblically, rationally, realistically and physically, there can be no arguing that save for supernatural powers, nothing will stop death from having you.

What, then, did these jaded and worn soldiers see when they slept? Did the cries of a thousand dying soldiers echo in their ears only to turn into an orchestra in an anthem hall? Did the explosions of war, obliterating and shattering everything they touched with their relentless grips of death, turn into the crashing of blue ocean waves upon a sandy paradise? Did the darkness of war, looming over the battlefield like a flag present only to remind them of the destitution and ruin they took part in, become like a cloud that dissipates with the cool breeze of a summer evening from their childhood? And did those childhood memories, quiet and sweet, become the very nightmares they struggled to bury within themselves? Did each memory pierce their hearts with needles every time they thought about what may have been the last time they will ever feel at home again? Did each memory create a bitterness about their that weighed on them like the yokes of livestock; a tool for work that never ceased and never came off?

The dreams of a soldier are nothing less than indescribable; composed of the same elements, yet so different that only those with eyes of sympathy or understanding could ever hope to find common ground between them.

The dreams of Aries squad were no different than the dreams of the Commander's, or the engineers', or the army tacticians, or their fellow soldiers. Combat was more to everyone who participated in its ghoulish feats, than merely an action; everyone seeing something behind the shroud of smoke that was an immovable obstacle before their eyes. What they would see was but further proof that nothing truly kills a man; each seeing a different reflection of themselves in a broken mirror. They would all ask themselves: "Can I become whole again? Can I be forgiven? Can I ever find happiness? Will I ever come home? Will our enemies ever be served the justice they deserve for what they've done to me?"

The Captain awoke that night to find that all of his squad mates had committed suicide while they slept. "NO!" He said staggering. He put his gun to his temple, going to join them in whatever afterlife existed he thought. He looked down to see Private James on the floor; his eyes staring into the abyss. He stared into James' eyes…then they looked up at him.

The Captain awoke gasping for air in a full sweat, waking Lieutenant Bart from his slumber. "Everything alright, sir?" He said drowsily.

"I'm fine, Bart," He replied, mustering what composure he had left, "just a nightmare, get some rest." With that he tried to relax and fall back asleep.

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 **Hey all, I hope you are enjoying World War M!**

 **More chapters coming soon!**


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